


Your Majesty

by regina_stellaris



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, King Anduin Wrynn, Lots of tears, M/M, Tears, preLegion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regina_stellaris/pseuds/regina_stellaris
Summary: "Thank you, your Majesty."The title, so casually said, is enough to startle the younger man out of his praying. The Light recedes, and a fresh wave of tears comes to his eyes as he remembers that, not long ago, this has been his father's also. He covers his face with his hands again, sitting down on the bed behind him. Just a moment later, the bed dips, indicating that Khadgar sat down next to him, but Anduin doesn't look up. He's too busy pretending that he's not falling apart in front of one of the mightiest mages of the realm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For my best friend, and all people out there who just lost someone.
> 
> Remember, you're loved.

Anduin's exhausted.

A part of him wants to crawl into bed and sleep until the pain goes away, another wants to tear everything he owns apart. His feelings are all over the place; he feels overwhelmingly emotional and empty at the same time like his intestines are on fire and he can do nothing about it. The mask he slipped on during the funeral is almost a blessing. Almost.

Anduin feels it slipping as tears well in his eyes when he walks from Lion's Rest back to Stormwind Keep. So many citizens are on the streets, bellowing their condolences, covering the pavement he walks on with hundreds of flowers. His breath is taken away when he realizes that they were his mother's favorite, a silent tribute to their late regent. Shaking with the need to suppress his tears, he takes deep breaths, tries to show his people a king who's smiling, albeit sadly, ready to take on the future, rather than the poor excuse of a prince who'd like to hide from the world and bawl like a baby.

Squaring his shoulders, he carries on, exiling his dark thoughts to the back of his mind like he would do with the shadow magic he occasionally indulges before he makes his way up the stairs and towards the entrance of the Keep. Guards are patrolling the square with the fountain, even more going up and down the stairs. Anduin knows that this is a safety precaution in case the Legion decides to attack Stormwind on a whim, yet he can't help but feel a little weirded out by all these new faces. Who knows which person is loyal to Stormwind and which person is already a Legion spy, sent by their masters to infiltrate the Keep and gain information about troop maneuvers and provisions?

At least one of his father's many consultants seems to think alike the prince because he throws out every guard who hasn't been part of Stormwind's forces for more than five years at least. When Anduin asks a maid that helps him dress into the robes and insignias for his coronation who exactly came up with this plan, she blushes and bends forward as if it's a secret.

"Don't tell her I said anything," she whispers while attending to the lion's head that's supposed to be strapped to his left side, "It was your honored grandmother, your majesty."

Anduin contemplates this for a moment before he chuckles gently. He should have known that Queen Taria would do everything in her power to ensure the safety of the last member of her family, even if this meant alienating a lot of the new guards and soldiers. His grandmother is just as stubborn as he himself is, as his father was.

The mere thought of his father makes him stiffen, but the maid doesn't seem to realize this. She attaches the accessories to his chest and claps her hands when she is finished, looking at Anduin with a smile and pure adoration in her eyes. "Everything is ready, your Majesty. Please, take a moment, then follow me to the throne room. The coronation is just about to begin." While she talks, she opens the doors to Anduin's room and steps outside, waiting patiently for the prince to follow her.

Anduin sighs, then contemplates making the people in the throne room wait so that he can release some of the tears that are holed up inside him to feel better, but then decides against it. He does not want to be cruel to his people who just lost their king, and he also wants to get it over with so that he can lick the wounds in his heart and maybe start to heal. So he squares his shoulders yet again, leaves his room and follows the maid to the coronation, to his impending destiny.

-

Everything goes to hell after the coronation is over. First and foremost, Jaina's hellbent on revenge and, when Anduin doesn't act alongside her wishes, calls him a disappointment. It's rather tiring for the young prince – _no, I'm king now_ , he tells himself – to be on the receiving end of one of her tantrums, yet he doesn't blame her for her outburst. Maybe Jaina needs a moment to calm down too, after everything she's had to witness at the Broken Shore. But it's important to stay together, now more than ever, as the entire world is threatened by the Burning Legion, which is easier said than done when his honorary aunt teleports away. Especially when, only moments after her departure, a demon hunter steps forward.

He calls himself Jace Darkweaver and assures Anduin that there are already demon's inside the castle who've copied the appearance of some of their most trusted guards. It is sad to see that Darkweaver is proven right only moments later when demons burst out of the side rooms, swirling around with their swords held high. They want to kill Anduin, of course, but they probably wouldn't mind killing some of the other Alliance leaders as well if the situation presents itself.

None of this happens. Alongside some of the survivors of the Broken Shore, they're able to fend the monsters off long enough so that reinforcements can arrive at the Keep. Or rather, one person comes in and takes care of the situation in a matter of seconds.

Archmage Khadgar, wielder of Atiesh, Greatstaff of the Guardian, enters the throne room in a magnificent display of magical prowess. The moment he transforms from his raven to his human form, the lesser demons are upon him, trying to feast on his magic. But Khadgar has none of it. With a wave of his right hand, he freezes the monsters completely, before he shatters them with Atiesh itself. By the time the bigger demons realize what happened, Khadgar has already eradicated their imps and seems ready to strike them as well, his eyes glowing blue with arcane magic. Anduin can only watch as the Archmage summons an arcane orb out of nowhere, which then proceeds to fly towards the demons, only to stop in their middle.

Khadgar smirks.

And then the orb explodes in such a powerful light that Anduin has to shield his eyes.

When he comes to again, the demons are gone, all but ash upon the floor. Anduin has never seen such a mighty explosion, and a part of him is thankful that Jaina's not here anymore. This would've made bad memories of Theramore surface. He's sure of it.

His grandmother, Queen Taria, is the first to do something after the threat is no more. She strides towards Khadgar in her dignified manner and then embraces him tightly, before hitting his head.

"How dare you miss my grandson's coronation?!"

"Ow," Khadgar rubs the spot, "I am very sorry, my lady, but I had urgent business to attend to. The matter we discussed a few nights ago is done." Anduin knows what this means; Khadgar has news which are important but shouldn't be discussed in front of everyone. Taria nods understandingly, before turning to Anduin and smiling apologetically.

"Anduin, dear, I have to talk to Khadgar for a few moments. I will be back momentarily." With that, she grips her dress slightly as not to have the hem drag on the floor, before indicating towards Khadgar to lead the way. Anduin sighs, then resigns himself to entertain the guests until his mother is back. This will be a long night, he thinks.

-

Luckily for the young king, the delegates and leaders of the other Alliance races take their leave shortly after. Most of them travel back to their own cities via a portal, but some will stay in Stormwind for a few more nights before making their way home. One of them is Moira Thaurissan, one of the leaders of Ironforge. She remains behind Falstad and Muradin as they enter the portal and asks the young king for a silent permission to speak. Anduin grants it with a gentle smile.

"I know how ye feel," she says with her light dwarven accent, "I thought my father lost for many years, only ta be proven wrong, and also saw my husband die. So if ye need someone ta talk Anduin, I am willing ta listen."

"Thank you kindly, Moira," ever since he'd saved her from his father's sword, he and Moira had been on first name basis, "I shall be alright. But if I'm ever in need of advice, I will seek you out."

Moira gives him a small smile, looking up at him. He's grown so much since she first met him. He'll make a fine king indeed, "I wish ye luck, Anduin Wrynn. May the mountain be with ye."

"And may it be with you also," he watches as Moira steps through the portal to Ironforge, then looks around the room. He thinks about looking for Velen, who promised to stay in the city for a few days until Anduin is used to sitting on the throne, but it seems he has gone for the night. Sighing deeply, the young king makes his way back into the throne room where he's left his father's letter before wishing goodbye to all the representatives. Taking it with him, his way continues towards his room, which he enters quietly, but not before nodding towards the guard appreciatively. The poor man has probably better things to do than stand watch all night, but his grandmother insisted.

Sighing, he starts to undo his regalia, dressing down until he is in naught but a comfortable linen shirt and pants. All his movements are slow and tender as if he's aged fifty years in just one day, everything bespeaking of the life changing alterations which took place this day. Anduin looks into the mirror and sees not a king, but a fatigued looking young man with tears in his eyes stare back. His heart clenches, his chest heaves.

Tumbling towards his bed, he sits down on it and covers his face with his hands, his body wracked by sobs. Why, why did his father have to die?! He knows, of course, he does. His father had put the lives of his soldiers and the other Alliance leaders above his own, had sacrificed himself so that the Skyfire could escape the clutches of Gul'dan and his Burning Legion so that Azeroth may still have a chance against the invading forces. He knows the rationality of his father's decision, and he is aware that he may also have to make that choice at one time in his life, but it still hurts so much that his father left him alone just like that.

A sudden surge of anger runs courses through him, making his vision go red. He takes the letter, the last thing left to him by his father, into his hands and stares at it, his tear stricken face morphing into that of desperation and pain, his breath catching in his throat, feeling helpless – he's yelling and rips the paper into pieces, bit by bit, until nothing but confetti is left of it, falling to the floor in front of his bed as if carried by a gentle breeze. At first, a wave of satisfaction sweeps over his damaged heart, licking at his wounds, however, before the last shred can call, he already regrets it.

Fresh tears well to his eyes and he gasps, his eyes wide, staring at his hands as if he cannot believe that he did that right now. Sliding from the bed, he falls to his knees next to the heap of shredded paper, picking up pieces that he thinks belong together, desperately trying to make sense of the mess he's made. While his body is still wrecked by sobs, he does not hear how the door opens, nor does he notice the footsteps coming towards him. Only when the person stands directly next to does he look up, coming face to face with a sadly smiling Archmage.

Anduin sobs loudly, "Khadgar," before he looks towards the shreds that had been his father's last letter once, "Can you ... fix ... it?"

Khadgar just continues smiling, gently pulling Atiesh from its place on the Archmage's back before he puts it to the ground. He sits down next to the young king, Atiesh to his left, and starts picking up a shred, "Don't worry, Anduin. I can fix it", his voice is brimming with confidence, and it gives the blonde hope, even if more tears fall from his eyes than before, "Just help me find all the pieces. We have to arrange them into the right order so that nothing is at the wrong place."

Anduin just nods, wiping away tears but failing miserably. He starts looking through the pile of shreds, trying to find the one's belonging together, even though his vision swims the entire time, passing them towards Khadgar who patiently arranges them. They work in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, occasionally disrupted by Anduin's sobs, but soon, the entire letter lies in front of the mage, almost whole if not for the rips still separating it.

Khadgar now proceeds to kneel in front of it, both of his hands outstretched and above it. He mutters, " _Z'ifahl_ ," and his eyes start to glow. Anduin watches as slowly, carefully, thin tendrils of blue light emitting from Khadgar's fingertips, swirling onto the paper shreds in gentle waves. His watery gaze is drawn to the first two pieces the light makes contact with – the light seems to flow right towards the rip, lightly touching and overlapping the pieces on both sides, before it recedes, leaving nothing but mended paper. The light continues its way, repairing the rips, making Anduin gape despite himself. Tears still fall, but not as strongly as before, while it feels like the light is also mending his shredded empty heart. One of his hands sneaks over his heart, rubbing himself carefully through the thin shirt. Khadgar continues smiling, and it's the most serene thing Anduin's witnessed in the last few days.

After an eternity that feels like mere seconds, the light diminishes. Khadgar's eyes stop glowing and just like that the completely restored letter of Varian Wrynn lies before them, not one tear left in the paper. Anduin wipes the tears away, and although he's far from happy, the sadness is not as pain inducing as it was before. Khadgar just continues smiling, while it feels as if the staff next to him is humming. The Archmage puts a hand on the handle, and it stops, but Anduin is not sure if it hasn't just been a trick of his mind.

"Thank you," Anduin sighs slightly, takes the letter and gently rolls it up before he puts it on his bedside table. Khadgar has the slightest feeling that the young king will reread it before he goes to sleep.

"Don't mention it," Khadgar stands up slowly, groaning in pain along the way, "I get that sitting on the floor is not healthy for a man my age."

The young priest practically leaps to his feet and stands before the Archmage in seconds, "Here, let me...", he starts murmuring a prayer, speaking in the ancient tongue like it's modern language while his eyes begin to glow with Light. Khadgar watches as Anduin draws his hand over the older man's body and feels the pain slowly seeping out of him like water. He groans thankfully and then bends down, only to retrieve Atiesh.

"Thank you, your majesty."

The title so casually said, is enough to startle the younger man out of his praying. The Light recedes, and a fresh wave of tears comes to his eyes as he remembers that, not long ago, this has been his father's also. He covers his face with his hands again, sitting down on the bed behind him. Just a moment later, the bed dips, indicating that Khadgar sat down next to him, but Anduin doesn't look up. He's too busy pretending that he's not falling apart in front of one of the mightiest mages of the realm.

That leaves him completely surprised when he suddenly feels the other man's arm around his shoulders, dragging him against a warm body. Finally risking a glance between his tear soaked fingers, Anduin is yet again greeted with a gentle smile and Khadgar's kind brown eyes.

"Don't keep it in," the mage whispers softly, "I tried that, and believe me when I tell you it didn't work that well, so ... I'm here for you, if you need me, alright?" Something about his tone of voice is tearing right at Anduin's heart, making him unable to tear his gaze away. Then his lips tremble, and without another word, he collapses into Khadgar's strong arms, bawling like never before in his life while the Archmage gently runs a hand through his long blonde hair. They sit like this for a good half an hour in which Anduin's wracked by sobs while Khadgar just holds him before the young king has finally recovered enough that his crying turns into small hiccups. Khadgar continues stroking his hear, " Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

"No, it's not!", Anduin's voice is muffled where his face presses against the linen of Khadgar's robe, but the mage hears it all the same, "My father is dead! He ... he just died and ... he left me ..."

"I know that you feel empty right now, Anduin," the way he says his name sounds heartbreaking, making the priest look up and into the mage's eyes. Khadgar's gaze is soft and sad, like a ballad he doesn't know the lyrics off, "I've felt like this myself once. I was in love, you see - no, I am in love. I still love that person very much, with every fiber of my being." He sighs deeply, stroking a hand over his staff absentmindedly. Perhaps it's exhaustion, but Anduin could swear he feels it hum, "And after he died, I wanted to die so badly."

"He ...?", Anduin is confused for a moment, wiping his tears away. It doesn't take him long to get the bigger picture, the way Khadgar said his name; Anduin's always been smart for his age, "You mean Anduin Lothar, don't you?"

"Yes," Khadgar sounds pleased rather than surprised, "You can't imagine how much I still love that man." He seems to be struggling for words but then continues speaking, "When he died I felt ... I felt like nothing made any sense anymore. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't do anything. I was lost, Anduin", Khadgar's hand is still in the young king's hair, stroking it gently. Anduin leans into the touch, "I wanted to follow him so desperately, wanted to die so badly, but every time I threw myself headfirst into a dangerous situation, I came out victorious. Today, this makes me proud of myself, but back then it just pissed me off, you know?"

"I guess," in reality, Anduin is far from understanding the pain Khadgar must have felt when he held his dead lover in his arms, but he gets what the mage is trying to do for him by re-opening this wound of the past. He loves Khadgar a little bit for it, if in a caring way.

"I thought that I would never be happy again," Khadgar's gaze is far away like he sees the past before his inner eye, "But then people reached out to me, lent me a shoulder to cry on. Turalyon was such a person. Even the mighty A'dal tried to ease my pain, and with each passing day it was a little easier to breathe, a little easier to live on, with the burden of Anduin's death a little lighter on my shoulders." He gently wipes away the tear tracks Anduin missed before kissing him on the forehead, "And I know you can be just as strong as I had to be, too. Your pain is fresh, and you will probably cry a lot, but just keep on living, alright? Live for your father, who sacrificed his life to protect his pride and joy, you, Anduin Wrynn."

Again tears well to the young king's eyes, but not as before. Instead of being sad, he's touched by what Khadgar just said, and a part of him wishes that he could ease the older man's pain. But he knows that he should concentrate on himself right now so that the mere thought of his father doesn't tear him apart.

Anduin does, however, hug the mage tightly, and if he accidentally touches the very clearly humming Atiesh, he doesn't say anything about it.

 


End file.
